


Serafina Gets Her Dragon

by Rhunae



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 19:13:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13887336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhunae/pseuds/Rhunae
Summary: Completely self indulgent dragon age trash, set almost immediately after the end of Trespasser.





	Serafina Gets Her Dragon

**After the Council meeting - 9:44 Dragon**

 

Tall grass swayed along the worn path, brushing at her ankles and calves. At the archway, Serafina turned to scan over the two giant wolf statues down the hill where she left her companions. Cole lay along the spine of one of the wolf statues, his head resting against the back of its neck, the small elven toddler snuggled atop his chest, cradled in his arms. Cole made a good ‘uncle’; he was attentive and enthralled with the little elf. Pushing up on tippy toes, she searched for Bull and Dorian, but she could see nothing in the high golden grasses. She snickered softly to herself.

Ambling with a reverent gait into the empty coliseum, the field lay untouched for so long, it may have lain fallow for eons before she walked it’s forgotten grounds. Two years passed since the last time she tread across the arena, when Flemeth sent her here to claim the elven goddess’ guardian against Corypheus. That help came in the form of a dragon.

Serafina did not expect a dragon this time. She didn’t expect anything. She was going to beg for help. Then what? Probably nothing. It was futile to try. How long had the priests and sentinels prayed to Mythal with no answer? How long had her people prayed to Mythal and received no answer? It was an act of desperation, but seeing Solas again revealed a raw and gaping wound she thought scarred over long ago; she didn’t know what else to do.

Her boots crunched underfoot, kicking up dust from the packed dirt and gravel. A group of robins pecked and scratched at the ground scattered into the wind when she reached them. At the Exalted Council, she intended to dissolve the inquisition and return to Wycome, to return to her clan where Theneras could grow up among his kin. She hoped she had enough time to give him sufficient memories to cling to as he grew older without her and never knowing his father. All that changed when Solas masterfully manipulated her through a series of eluvians, stepping metaphorically back in time to crumbling ruins when proudly wore the badge of Fen’Harel, and what that meant before the legends and myths were distorted by propaganda and time.

Pausing before the steps to the shrine, Serafina stared at the dragon statue of Mythal for a long, quiet moment, trying to form the words to move a goddess to respond; one she thought long lost to her People, squirreled away into the heavens by a Trickster’s lie.

“Mythal! Flemeth!” Serafina glanced around, birds chirped in the trees surrounding the coliseum. She thought she could imagine the older witch canting her head at the sound of her name. Maybe she was listening. Maybe she didn’t care. Solas removed her vallaslin, slave markings of an era long gone, but drinking from the Well of Sorrows made her a servant, with or without those marks. Would Mythal respond now? Did Mythal respond to the prayers of Abelas and the other sentinels? It was beginning to sound like a repetitive mantra.

“I’m not seeking justice or vengeance of a wrong done to me. I call upon you as the Mother of our People. As the drinker of the Well of Sorrows, your servant. I am asking, begging, for guidance. I fell in love…”

Sighing, Serafina paced in meditation before the shrine, the sound of her boots on the gravel creating a rhythmic tune, “My wolf, my guardian, my protector, my heart,… left my side to save his People.”

Should she had claimed him so possessively? She remembered no stories relating to Mythal and the Dread Wolf implying intimacy. Solas was merely reverent at the temple. Would Flemeth answer, knowing the tales of the first witch of the wilds? Maybe she didn’t think this through. Maybe this truly was a mistake.

Rubbing her right hand fingers against her brow, what remained of her left arm hung useless at her side, her shoulders slouched in dejection as her thoughts turned increasingly negative and bitter, “I asked to help him. He refused. He walks the Din’anshiral. I— I can’t allow him to do this alone. If he’s going to change,… no, destroy my world, I need… I need… Fuck!” She ground her teeth, “Help me, Flemeth.”

Sinking to her knees, Serafina pressed her palm against her right eye, her voice thick with emotion, “The Return of the Elvhen People does not need to mean the death of Thedas— of my people. I don’t want to die. Help me merge his world with mine. Help me, help him. Help me save him, save us, save our so-.” Serafina’s voice cracked on the last.

Pressing her forehead to the stone steps, tears fall silent from the corners of her eyes and plop with a less than dignified drip on the stone. She lay there sobbing on the steps to the shrine. Too distraught to pull herself up. All the emotions laid bare, raw, and overwhelming.

 

 

>   
>  _Flicker. A series of dreams left her reeling from their intensity and overall peculiar weirdness. As the last of the dreams faded. The ground shook. Sparkling light was flicked in her face, then the dream melted away to darkness. Leaving her dizzy and disorientated._

  
Serafina startled awake. The ground shook again. Small pebbles and sand bounced in place. Something large huffed heat and the stench of decaying meat close to her face. Turning her head slowly, all she saw was green scales and giant teeth just a mere few inches from her face.

Screeching, she back peddled away and bumped into the dragon statue of Mythal.

The dragon tilted her head to look at her from one golden eye, then bounced away with two powerful leaps to the other end of the coliseum, her head swinging from side to side, her tail swinging opposite to maintain balance.

“Boss?!” Iron Bull’s voice cut through the distance as he ran under the archway into the vacant space of the coliseum.

“Yes,” she called out to him, still trying to regain her bearing after being sucked into a series of strange dreams, then suddenly dumped awake.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Iron Bull hesitate, “Are you ok, boss?” He called out. “I would attack but last time we were here, you gained a dragon…”

“I-I think so.” Serafina rose carefully, struggling for her initial balance, still not used to general movement with a missing limb.

“She wants to help.” Cole wondered in awe, his daggers in hand but hesitant to close the distance.

The Tevinter remained near the arch, Thenaras tucked in the sling close to his chest. “You’re— you won’t need me for this, will you? Maybe some barriers? I got the kid…”

The dragon continued to swing her head from side to side, keeping the four in her line of sight, huffing small clouds of smoke from her nostrils.

“No, if she meant me harm, she would have,” Serafina gestured for them to stand down as she warily trudged closer, her steps slow and cautious; the voices from the Well of Sorrows whispering across the distances, instructing her.

The dragon shifted and settled her belly against the ground and tucked her lime green and black marble colored wings loosely against her body.

“This dragon was the one we saved from the Qunari. We set her free.” It surprised her, an act of mercy by the infamous dragon killer, but the inquisitor didn’t have the heart to kill the tied down and tortured beast. It didn’t feel right. Did the dragon know she only hunted dragons that threatened human towns and settlements?

“Yes, we helped her. So she is here to help you. She’s in pain.” Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed that Cole had resheathed his daggers and was now squatting beside the Iron Bull with a curious expression.

Nodding, “Yes, I see her horns were chopped off.” Serafina stepped closer until her and the dragon were only several feet from one another. “I noticed briefly when I was trying to set her free, but hadn’t got a good look before. It looks like she is fighting an infection. The Qunari cut it pretty close to the quick. Hey, Dorian, do you have any of that ointment?”

“Let me check, “Dorian called out over the distance.

“Yeah. They called her Ataashi.” Iron Bull replied, “It means ‘glorious one’ in Qunlat.”

“They certainly named her well, Bull.”

The dragon opened her large maw and from deep in her throat sound waves rolled out over her tongue and blasted against her, sending her red hair into a flurry behind her and nearly knocking her off her feet.

“Uh, boss?”

“She’s communicating, Bull.”

“You understood that?”

“The Voices from the Well are … translating?”Reaching at her side, she pulled out her dagger, but when she glanced to where her left hand would be, she lifted her stump. She ground her teeth in frustration, “I need a little help here. Cole?”

The sound of his boots shuffling across the expanse increasingly grew louder until he stopped beside her, “She’s beautiful.” The Spirit of Compassion always seemed to hold a sense of awe in his voice.

“She is. Can you slice open my palm?” Serafina glanced at him, offering him the dagger in hand by the blade.

Cole peered at her under the brim of his large hat, the pale blue of his eyes partially hidden by his blond strands, “Are you certain? Won’t this hurt you?”

“Only for a moment.”

He took the dagger, and as she held out her right palm, he sliced the length of it from between her thumb and forefinger and down across the fleshy part of her palm. She hissed as the pain cut quick. Making a fist, she approached Ataashi as the dragon opened her mouth and slid her tongue partway between sharp teeth. Pumping her fist several times, she drained some of her life essence atop the grooved tongue. The serpent tongue slid back in and the dragon closed her mouth. Stepped back, she felt a nudge when Cole tapped her shoulder to hand her a white linen handkerchief from his pocket.

“Thank you.” She took the handkerchief, but stared dumbfounded as she stared between her right hand and the stump of her left arm. Grounding her teeth again in frustration, the feeling of helplessness weighed heavily against her chest.

“Let me help.” Cole offered, taking the cloth out of her hand and wrapping it himself, tying it off with a gentle tug.

“Again, thank you.”

As the human and elf were busy, the dragon stretched out one of her paws, a single claw stretched out and pricked the metacarpal pad of her paw until dark, red blood oozed from the weal. Once the makeshift bandage was secure, Serafina stepped forward and knelt down beside the dragon’s paw.

“You’re going to—” Iron Bull was closer than before, fascinated by the process of a dragon willingly offering blood.

“You’re gonna drink it? Like The Iron Bull when he chose to be a Reaver?”

“There are many uses for dragon’s blood.” Dorian replied quietly, standing to the side and slightly behind the Iron Bull, keeping the child in his arms shielded.

Rummaging in one of her pouches, the inquisitor pulled out a worn wooden cup and carefully pressed the lid against the oozing blood. It flowed thickly into her cup, filling the cup halfway, then Serafina rose and stepped back away. She stared at the dark liquid as she listened to the whispers from the Voices of the Well.

“Dorian, will you help me with this? Bull and Cole, will you attend Ataashi? Cut off the ropes and apply the ointment to her horn stubs?”

As the Tal-Vashoth and Spirit of Compassion attended the dragon, she led Dorian a few feet away where they knelt facing one another. The Tevinter held the cup in both hands, holding it forward to keep Thenaras’ chubby fingers from grabbing it. The elven toddler whimpered with dismay.

“This isn’t for you, little one,” Serafina said, ruffling the shock of ginger atop his head. Pulling her hand from the toddler, her hand hovered over the wooden cup, the blue glow of magic directed into the thick dragon’s blood. The Voices told her the magic to perform, a form of blood magic she never even considered.

“This is fascinating. What is the ritual?”

“It’s to help with the bonding between me and Ataashi. I’ll be able to call for her from miles away.” The voices recited a series of elven words, then she repeated them aloud. The blood fizzled and bubbled briefly.

Dorian tipped the cup towards him as the blood fizzled, and just at that moment, Theneras reached out and dropped his tiny, pudgy fingers into the cup.

“Oh no!”

Theneras looked right at her and stuck his fingers into his mouth.

“No! Honey, no.”

The toddler made several faces of disgust, then stuck out his hand and tried to shake the blood off his fingers, but it was too late. “Off! Off!” He ordered whoever would listen.  
Dorian handed the cup to her, then he quickly got out a cloth and wiped off the toddler’s hands.

With the Voices in her head frantically whispering for her to drink, she quickly drank the contents in the cup. There was no time to prepare herself, to find her nerve to drink dragon’s blood. But there it was. A thick malaise flowing thickly down her throat. It was tangy and metallic, and tasted of sulfur and smoke. And life. Life blossomed from the pit of her belly and spread to her limbs. A cloud swept across her mind, ruffling memories she had long forgotten, then clarity settled behind her eyes. The power of Ataashi’s blood not only gave her a bond with the beast, but also raw power flowed through her veins.

“So, what will happen to the boy?” The strain in Dorian’s voice was palpable, the guilt heavily written on his brow.

Tilting her head, she listened to the voices, “The bond is weak because Ataashi did not taste his blood. He may be more powerful as he grows up than without it. He may even make a powerful warrior, or mage. He may have an affinity with other dragons, since he was not carefully bonded to this one. It’s really hard to say. Being so young, maybe nothing.”

With the ritual done, and Cole and Iron Bull finished caring for the dragon, the two retreating from the beast with a strange look of fascination and awe. Ataashi flexed her wings out, rose up and beat her wings until she could propel herself from the ground and fly off.

“Boss, life is not boring around you.”

“She’s happy we helped. She feels free.”


End file.
